Shedding a Tear
by FindingRainbows
Summary: bbc musketeers kink meme fill: Five times Aramis cried - for silly or at least non-tragic reasons - in front of his friends and one time he wouldn't cry at all even though he should have. Hope you enjoy


A/N Written as a fill for this prompt over on the bbc musketeers kink meme:  
Five times Aramis cried - for silly or at least non-tragic reasons - in front of his friends  
and one time he wouldn't cry at all even though he should have.  
Not talking full on hysterics here, but a few drops of man-pain, quickly scrubbed away,  
and maybe a few sniffles. I want an Aramis who is easily moved by beauty like song and  
poetry but then, bam, when it all gets too much he's all stone-faced with dry eyes.

**Music**

1.

It was hot, the chair was hard and uncomfortable and Porthos was bored. He looked across at his fellow Musketeers; d'Artagnan was fiddling with his belt, Athos looked very close to dozing off and even the Captain was staring off in the wrong direction. He sighed. Then hearing a breath hitch, he turned to his other side. His eyes opened wide in momentary shock as there was Aramis clearly captivated with a tear running down his cheek.

Aramis was captivated. Truth be told, he had been pleased they had got the invite to the palace to watch the operatic performance. It was a thank you from the king for a particularly difficult mission they had completed the week previously. The other men had groaned at the prospect of the gift but Aramis had secretly been rather excited. And for good reason he thought: the music was beautiful.

Porthos watched his friend be moved by the music and suddenly found himself smiling. He couldn't help but feel warmed by the joy that was evident on the other man's face. He would, of course, tease him mercilessly about the crying later but for now, he watched the tears fall with fondness.

**Pain**

2.

Athos' eyes scanned their temporary battle ground and sighed with relief when he saw his three brothers still standing amongst the fallen.

"Well, that was close," Porthos called across as the men began to gather together.

"Too close," Aramis grimaced, "I appear to need some assistance."

"You're hurt?" d'Artagnan asked, concerned. He was the first one to reach Aramis and he immediately knew the problem, 'Dislocated?" He gestured to the shoulder his friend was holding awkwardly.

Aramis nodded as the other two Musketeers got close enough to inspect the injury.

"Right, there is only one way to do this," Athos stated sharing a look with Porthos. Between them they eased Aramis into a sitting position and took hold of his shoulder.

"I hate this," Aramis gritted knowing the pain that was going to come.

Porthos and Athos had another conversation with their eyes over Aramis's head that d'Artagnan watched with confusion. It ended with a shrug from Porthos and then the two of them together snapped Aramis's shoulder into place.

There was no real sound from the injured man's mouth which surprised d'Artagnan but before he had time to process that he could feel an arm guiding him away.

"Come on," Athos said, "We need to give him a minute."

"Why? What's...?" d'Artagnan twisted his back round so he could see where Aramis was still sat, "Is he...is he crying?" he whispered to Athos.

The older man let go of his arm and sighed. He turned himself to look back at where Porthos had a protective hand on Aramis' back, "He has never been the stoic type." There was no criticism in Athos' tone, only one of understanding.

d'Artagnan had also turned to watch the others. Aramis was now wiping his eyes rather vigorously as though embarassed. The Gascon didn't quite know why but he found himself smiling.

Athos raised a brow, "You are smiling because?"

d'Artagnan looked at him with gleaming eyes, "I've seen Aramis dodge bullets, throw himself on bombs...hell, he risks his life, as you all do, on a daily basis and you think I will judge him for shedding a few tears when in pain?"

Regarding the younger man, Athos felt a swell of pride in his chest but before he could respond, he sensed Aramis and Porthos behind him.

"I think I may cry at your little speech," Porthos joked. d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

"Thank you," Aramis told the Gascon sincerely.

"Don't mention it. Although, don't think, I won't stop reminding you of the opera."

With that, three men laughed and one man groaned.

**Happiness**

3.

Aramis allowed himself to be pushed forward but huffed with the unnecessary force of it, "Did you need to put the blindfold on so soon?"

"Stop whining," Porthos replied firmly giving his friend another nudge forwards.

Aramis groaned, 'This is worse than being taken hostage."

D'Artagnan snorted behind him, "Oh yeah and how many times have you been taken hostage?"

"More than he should have been," Athos responded beside him. D'Artagnan looked at him quizically. Athos' face was as serious as it ever was.

"Ok, I'll be wanting details later," the Gascon told him.

"You'll not get them," Aramis cut in but Porthos mouthed, "You will," over his shoulder. D'Artagnan grinned.

"Right, wait here," Athos said, stopping the two Musketeers infront. They had reached the entrance of Treville's office. Athos stuck his head round the door and nodded over to the Captain who in turn gave an affirmative bob of the head; everything was in place.

Aramis was guided the rest of the way into the room and stood before the table. D'Artagnan eagarly went to stand by the Captain round the other side. He didn't want to miss this. Athos too went round the table but he lent against the wall in his usual aloof pose.

Porthos took Aramis' blindfold off.

There was an unexpected moment of silence which had four of the men exchanging slightly worried glances. The other man, the now unblindfolded man, couldn't take his eyes off an object on the table.

"What's this?" Aramis finally spoke.

"It's yours," Treville replied carefully.

Aramis looked up sharply and then looked round at his friends in turn. Porthos could sense his disbelief.

"We all chipped in," Porthos started.

"You needed a new one after..." D'Artagnan continued but trailed off. They all knew why Aramis needed a new musket. His last one, the one his father had gifted to him, had been stolen.

"Wouldn't do for our best marksman to not have his own musket," Treville clapped his hand on Aramis' shoulder. This gesture seemed to shake the younger man from his stunned stillness and he reached down to pick up the gun.

"Can I?" Aramis found himself needing to ask before completely lifting.

Athos gave confirmation again, "It's yours."

The musket finally left the table to be admired by its new owner. Aramis handled it with the upmost care taking every part of it in.

The other men were still unsure of his reaction until a tear began to fall.

"I don't know how to thank you," Aramis' voice was just above a whisper as he lowered the weapon and rubbed a hand over his welling eyes.

"Use it to shoot the enemy and I'll be happy," Porthos shrugged at his side. This broke through the heightened emotion in the room and it seemed everyone let out a breath they didn't know they had been holding especially when Aramis snorted in laughter.

"I promise to do that then," Aramis stated wiping away the tears of pure happiness from his eyes.

**Romance**

4.

"You have got to be kidding me," Porthos sighed.

"What?" Aramis asked turning to look at his companion's unexpected statement.

"You," Porthos clarified, "You've started with the waterworks already."

Aramis's hands moved straight to his eyes to mop up the tears he hadn't realised he was shedding, "I can't help it," he shrugged, "It's all so romantic."

Porthos rolled his eyes, "How are you my best friend?"

"They say opposites attract," Athos chipped in from the other side of Aramis.

This caused Porthos to lean forward and glare at the man, "How are you my best friend?"

"I saved your life," Athos answered simply eyes focused forward.

"You did not," Porthos huffed a bit too loudly. The people in the pew in front turned to shush him and d'Artagnan who was sat on his other side sniggered.

"You lot aren't fit to take anywhere," the Gascon whispered but he too found himself on the receiving end of shushing this time from one of his fellow Musketeers.

"Some of us want to enjoy this wedding," Aramis told him.

D'Artagnan shared a look with Porthos but the two of them resented and settled in for the rest of the service.

It hadn't come as a surprise to anyone when Pierre, the stable hand at the garrison, had announced his engagement to Rochelle, one of the serving girls at the local tavern. After all there were certain times when it wasn't always wise to enter the stables without announcing yourself loudly beforehand. The pair had been inseparable since Pierre had move to Paris six months ago. And now it was their wedding day. A small, modest affair but special in its own way.  
Pierre had insisted on the presence of certain Musketeers as they has treated him well since his arrival even going as far as giving him some weapons training on the side.  
However, one of them had recently done another task for him. Pierre had caught the man flexing this talent when he clearly thought he was alone in the stables. This was the Musketeer who had just shushed his young friend and now waited with baited breath as his work was about to be read.

To Aramis the words seemed a blur as he felt the thundering of his heart in his ears. He was nervous. He had no reason to be; no-one knew the poem was written by his very hand. They never needed to. But he felt a sense of duty and hope it was received well. When Aramis sensed the piece coming to a close, he heard a murmur beside him,

"That was beautiful," Athos was half smiling with his head cocked slightly to one side as if he had been listening intently.

Aramis blinked. He hadn't expected that. He allowed himself then to take a scan of the room. It seemed the ladies were all in the need of a hanky-chief and, Aramis noted with pride, so did some of the men.

"Not you as well," Porthos groaned and Aramis looked across to his friend. However, it was the person next to Porthos who made him smile. D'Artagnan was wiping away tears.

...

"This is the best thing about a wedding," Porthos exclaimed as he stuffed another cake into his mouth.

"Trust you to only think about the food," Aramis smirked.

They were seated at a table in the middle of the tavern where Rochelle worked which had been decorated to suit the occasion. The guests were in good spirits with some up dancing on tables in the corner of the room.

Athos and d'Artagnan had navigated their way back to the table with drinks and were reaching over to hand them round when a figure broke in between them and swung her arms around their necks.

"Gentlemen," the bride had clearly had a few drinks, "Thank you for coming."

Athos skilfully detached himself and sank down into a chair, "It was a lovely day."

"It was, wasn't it?" Rochelle slurred leaning more on an uncomfortable d'Artagnan.

"You looked stunning," Aramis added ever the charmer.

Rochelle glanced at him and smiled then suddenly she attempted to straighten up as she realised something, "Ah Aramis, you...you wrote the poem. Yes, the poem. I should thank you," She stepped forward and planted a sloppy kiss on the Musketeer's forehead, nodded and then proceeded to be pulled away by one of her girlfriends.

Aramis was too busy to notice his friends staring at him while he tried to wipe his head clean.

"That was you?" Porthos ventured.

"Hmm?" Aramis raised his head at the question and blanched when he felt their gazes.

"You wrote that poem?" d'Artagnan's asked.

Aramis nodded, "Pierre asked me a couple of weeks ago."

"You have skill," Athos stated giving the man a pat on the arm.

Porthos smirked, "You also made d'Artagnan cry."

"I did, didn't I?" Aramis said delightedly watching as the younger man squirmed.

"You're never going to stop reminding me of this are you?"

"No," Athos confirmed while the others laughed.

"But he cries all the time," d'Artagnan protested gesturing at Aramis.

Aramis just tipped his hat, "I am the romantic type."

"Yeah, and we can only have one of those," Porthos stated, "I'm not dealing with two."

"Here, here," Athos agreed holding up his glass.

"Don't listen to these brutes, d'Artagnan," Aramis feigned being hurt, "You cry if you want to."

d'Artagnan rolled his eyes, "I think I need new friends."

**Laughter**

5.

"I don't like it," Aramis said for the fifth time that morning.

Athos pinched the bridge of his nose, "He will have overslept."

"Yeah, we all had a bit too much last night," d'Artagnan agreed nursing his head in his hands.

"He's never late," Aramis began but faltered at the raised eyebrows of the others. "Ok, he is never this late," he amended.

Athos sighed, he had to, although loathingly, concede that point, "Fine, we will go and see where he is," he stood up and nudged d'Artagnan's shoulder.

The younger man whined, "I don't want to come. It involves moving."

"Tough," Athos stated, "You'll have to learn to work through a hangover."

"And I will," d'Artagnan looked up at him, "Just not today."

Aramis rolled his eyes and hitched an arm under the man's armpit effectively dragging him to his feet, "Get moving!"

D'Artagnan didn't stop glaring daggers at his so called friends until they reached Porthos' house.

...

Porthos was in an unusual situation. He knew he needed help. He did want help except he really wasn't looking forward to that help arriving. So when he heard the knock at the door it was with mixed feelings that he shouted confirmation of his presence.

"Well, let us in then," Aramis shouted through the door.

Porthos sighed, "You are going to have to break in."

"Excuse me?" d'Artagnan had heard but didn't understand.

"You will have to break in!" Porthos repeated loudly. He listened for a response but all he could hear was some shuffling and then a bang. His door came flying inward followed by his friends all ready with a weapon.

His friends were unprepared for what they saw. Porthos was lying handcuffed to his bed with only a sheet covering a certain area. While they were stunned into silence, Porthos took his cue to issue a warning, "If you ever tell anyone about this or dare to laugh, I will kill you. Now get the key and get me out of here."

Athos was the first to gain some sensibility. He slid his sword back and asked "Where is the key?" as evenly as possible.

"I think she dropped it near the foot of the bed," Porthos said gesturing with his head to the area.

Athos signalled a still shocked d'Artagnan to search for the key while Aramis smirked, "So it was a woman?" he questioned gleefully, "Had her wicked way with you and left, did she?"

"Don't you start," Porthos growled at him and then he all but yelled, "Where is that key?"

d'Artagnan knelt up from his position on the floor with the item in his hand, "Found it!"

"Hurry up then," Porthos was rapidly losing his cool.

d'Artagnan walked steadily to one side of the bed; standing up from the floor had made his head swim. He undid the cuffs and then passed the key to Athos who repeated the process on the other side. The second the cuffs were off, Porthos made a bolt for the door leaving the sheet behind.

"What the...?"d'Artagnan exclaimed in surprise.

"I suspect he had to go and relieve himself," Athos told him. It was at that moment that Aramis broke behind them. He couldn't restrain the giggles any longer. d'Artagnan did not last long after and soon the pair were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. Even Athos joined in with a smile larger than usual.

Soon they were interrupted by an unimpressed Porthos re-entering the room. "I swear I will kill you," he threatened.

Aramis merely tilted his head slightly, "Perhaps, you better put some clothes on first."

It seemed in his haste, Porthos had forgotten he was naked. He growled and reached for the nearest item to cover his modesty. Unfortunately for Aramis that item was his hat.

"Hey, you?!"Aramis was dismayed, "You owe me a new one!"

The only response he received was narrowed eyes and a command, "Get out!"  
...

**Nothing**

He knew. They all did. From the moment they carried him off the battlefield.

But they don't stop. They don't listen to their heads. Instead they cling on to hope. As long as there is breath in a body, there is still a life to be saved.

They make it back to the garrison and lay him out on a bed. Treville already has a doctor ready but the experienced man only serves to confirm what their hearts don't want to believe. He does not speak the words but one look is all it takes.

There are some low voices on one side of the room and Aramis is faintly aware that someone is crying. It is not him.

Suddenly there are too many people in the room and yet one too few. He takes a few sharp steps backwards, hits the wall and crumbles.

He draws his knees up to his chest.

Porthos has gone.

A hand is placed on his shoulder. Athos. He knows he should seek comfort with his brother but, for now, he feels nothing.

There are no tears to shed.


End file.
